


Look Just A Little Closer

by Allexiaah



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Claudette is a good person, Fluff and a hint of Angst, Gen, I love them both let them be happy, I yearn for these two to be friends so I wanted to be self Indulgent, Other, and so is Philip, bear trap injury, i hold the power now, in this house my favorite characters get to hold hands platonically and you cant change this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:35:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26092723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allexiaah/pseuds/Allexiaah
Summary: Claudette heads away from the campfire and into the forest to look for some plants she's running out of. It isn't long before she runs into something she didn't ever expect to see.She's been told before that she's too empathetic for her own good. She never really considered it until then.
Relationships: Claudette Morel & Philip Ojomo | The Wraith, Claudette Morel/Philip Ojomo | The Wraith
Comments: 20
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wanted to see more of Claudette and Philip being friends and interacting, so I decided id give writing a story a try. I hope you enjoy it! I'll likely come back and edit it more later, I just want to put it out rn.  
> Edit: hey! I went through this and I'm not liking how my writing was before, or how I sort of added the second chapter without thinking about where I was taking this. So I'm rewriting the first chapter!! It'll be better I hope lol.
> 
> I'm slow with writing rn because I'm busy with a bunch more stuff now and I'm not as motivated, but I'm getting there!! If you find this now I hope you enjoy reading it regardless, and feedback is always appreciated <3

It hadn't been long at all since Claudette said her goodbyes and walked towards the foggy woods. She had informed the other survivors at the campfire of where she'd be, and everyone bid her farewell as she walked into the woods.

Claudette was always careful, very careful, when she entered the woods. Although she had never come across any killers, there was always the chance. They were always out there. The wailing of bells and roaring of chainsaws could be heard from just outside of the clearing. 

Her steps are light and she looks around for what she came into the woods for in the first place: Primrose. She'd been running low, and had used most of the blossoms from near the campfire. Most likely, she would have to delve a bit deeper into the fog to find more. She just had to keep her eyes out for the tiny flowers.

It was hard to get very far when any step could be treacherous. Jake said he had seen bear traps set around the woods before, on his own walks. She has to be careful. Take every step with caution. Being irresponsible is not an option.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a look around for dandelion too, while she's here, or a new plant she has yet to see. 

After a while of searching, maybe a little less than an hour, Claudette let her guard down when she saw a lively patch of the flowers she was looking for. A patch of primroses, Primula vulgaris. Lovely golden flowers.

It has been a long time since Claudette had been away from the campfire. Back when the campfire had less people residing there, she would take walks through the forest often. Nowadays, usually she would just tend to the garden she had made near the fire. It was ok nothing amazing, just some scrap wood in a makeshift fence that Jake had helped her put together to fence in dirt, but it was hers. She had planted all kinds of flowers there, even some primroses of her own. She tends to it often to cheer herself up. Maybe she could take some more of these blossoms home to plant.

No matter how many times she saw it, the life in the fog was eerily unnatural. Of course it would be, that's to be expected, but not in a way like this. Plants grew too fast, or didn't feel right, like the texture of plastic stems and fabric flowers you could buy at the store. Fake, yet convincing somehow, somewhere in her head. Missed signature features that plants should have. Like someone told her they should be that way. It drove her crazy. If anyone knew what she was talking about, she would have rambled to someone about it already. Maybe she would ask Dwight about it next-

The loud spring and snap of metal shot phantom pains down Claudette's leg. Thank God, though, that the trap that has gone off is not digging into her own flesh. She would have let out a sigh of relief if panic hadn't filled her at that moment. There was no scream from the trap's victim. 

Jake? Maybe it was Jake. He said there were traps out here. She has to go find him . She darts off through the woods, gently placing the primroses in her pocket as she darts towards the source of the sound.

Every step she takes is careful yet quick as she watches her feet. If they both got trapped, no one would be able to help. Jake was the only other survivor that was in the woods reliably enough to help. If both him and herself were hurt, no one would hear them.

It wasn't long before claudette heard the struggle of the trap's victim. She was caught off guard, though, by the breathing from the person caught in the trap. Her heart dropped. That wasn't Jake.

Claudette slowly pushed aside the last of the brambles that hid the trap from view.

She quickly darted back behind the tree she had peeked over and assured herself that she had the sharp glass that Laurie had given to her. At least if everything went wrong, she had a chance to escape.

Peeking back over again to see, claudette notices what is happening. The wraith was half-kneeling on the ground, fixated on something near his feet. It takes a moment for her brain to register that he didn't see her. Thank God. Wounds wouldn't heal outside of the trials as fast as they did inside of them. 

The raspy, ragged growling that came with the Wraith was also accompanied by the scraping of metal. Desperate sounding. Painful. Claudette only then realized why he hadn't moved, and what he was so fixated on. She almost wanted to throw up. Metal jaws were clasped around the Wraith's foot, and he was clawing at the trap in shock. Trying to free himself.

As soon as she sees him, the botanist quickly hides herself behind the tree again for a moment to catch her breath. A man who had murdered her was right in front of her. He was clearly hurt, but what was the risk involved in helping him? The pained breaths she heard from his direction hurt her, but how many times could she say the same about her own? How many times had she been cut down by his sickle? Too many to count.

Claudette tried to calm her racing heart. The Wraith had always been the easiest to go against in a trial. It was hardly even a competition. She would be lying if she said she didn't notice the sickle slide past her back when it clearly would have hit her, or how he would leave during a chase to investigate a generator. There was no way it was unintentional. 

Maybe he wasn't as bad as he seemed. Her body yells at her to reconsider, remembering all too well how the blades dug into her back, the life seeping out of her.

Claudette is too empathetic for her own good, she thinks. 

She slowly stands, takes a deep breath out, and slips out from behind the tree. Right into the view of a killer.

The thought of approaching the Wraith was a not very safe one, but she swallowed back the panic deep in her gut and stood still, not letting herself turn back. If he tried to hurt her, then she would just leave him. The pain had to be unbearable, too much to risk being left when help was nearby. At least, that's what her brain rationalized. And if it got bad, again, she had Laurie's glass shard.

God, she really did trust too easily, didn't she? Laurie had told her that. She could see it now.

The botanist can tell immediately when the Wraith sees her. He snaps his head to her direction and growls, keeping his hands on the trap around his foot but keeping his eyes on the survivor. It's hard not to see how desperate he is, and she can't blame him. The metal jaws crushed your bones, making it nearly impossible to walk, even if you did manage to escape the bloody jaws. 

He must think she wanted to get revenge. To get back for all of the times she's died by his hand. Claudette was too tired for that now. She put her hands up in a universal gesture of 'i won't hurt you,' and when the tall man's growls somewhat ceased, halfway back to just raspy breathing, she took another step closer.

He hardly even blinked, keeping his eyes glued to her. Waiting for her to do something. Keeping her on edge, a consistent warning that anything smart would still be met with resistance. It hurt to look at, to see anyone this scared, this hurt.

It took a while for words to come out of her mouth, but eventually, after a moment, they did.

"Can.. can I help?" Claudette mentally facepalmed. She could do better than that. She thinks, to be perfectly fair to herself, though, that it was better to ask than just assume. And she didn't usually have to talk to a man who's killed her too many times to count.

He looked at her, almost amazed that she'd said anything at all. Glowing white eyes burning into her. Something changed on his face, and from what the botanist could see, that was likely it. Confusion and amazement that she had even said a word at all. Especially to him.

It took him a moment to remember she had asked a question, and to Claudette's well-contained delight, he nods his head once. Hardly noticeable, but she saw it, and knew it was a yes.

The botanist creeped closer, keeping her attention on the wraith even while looking at the trap. She didn't see the sickle nearby at all. Surprising, but a very reassuring sight. Not something she would complain about.

Sighing, claudette quickly bit into her shirt sleeve, tearing off some of the fabric with a wince, wishing she had anywhere else to get fabric from. She looked back at the Wraith, trying to hold his gaze without trembling too visibly. If she was failing, she couldn't see it on his face.

It takes a moment with her shaky hands to tear the fabric from her sleeves. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Claudette tries her hardest to keep herself grounded instead of letting herself run as far as she can, like her body wants her to. She can help him. 

"I'm going to try and pull your foot out of the trap. It's going to hurt," She looks up at him. Even kneeling, he was inhumanly tall. The man lets out a large sigh and nods again. Feeling her heart beat so fast in her chest made her hands shake. That definitely isn't good for getting a grip on wet metal.

Maybe he'd let her go, the next time she saw him. The Wraith wasn't the kind of killer to kill outside of the trials. He didn't seem like it, anyways. Not with how he acted inside of them.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Claudette wrapped the fabric around her hands, staring intently at the trap. At least the fabric would supply a bit of extra grip against the wet bear trap's jaws. Looking up at the person she was trying to free one more time, Claudette knew she had to be fast, and they had to be coordinated.

"Okay. I need you to be ready to lift your foot out of the trap. Can you do that? I'll try to open the trap."

A hesitant nod was all that the botanist needed to see.

"Alright. Three," She fastened the cloth around her fingers.

"Two.." A deep breath escaped her as she reached down between the trap's teeth.

"One!" At the last second, Claudette, with all of her might, pulled at the bear trap's jaws. It required all of her strength and then some, and she felt her first burst of energy slowly come to a halt as the trap tried to regain hold of the Wraith's leg. She wasn't able to lift it enough for him to free himself, she realizes, and she tries as hard as she can with strength she doesn't have to keep the trap from biting back down.

Shocked by the sudden movement of another pair of arms on the trap jaws, claudette instinctively jumps, almost losing her grip on the trap. The wraith is trying to help her pry it open, too. Despite his thin frame, he is still unbelievably strong, and with her help the trap opens for just long enough to get the man's wounded leg out.

As the jaws snap back shut, the Wraith stumbles onto his knees with a growl of pain. Even freeing yourself from the metal teeth was painful. He hisses, looking at his leg, and tries to stand. Leaning against a tree for some of the stability he can't have standing on his own.

He was free now. Wasn't trapped in place. Even if he couldn't make it far at all, he could close the distance between them easily. The sudden oppressive fear of the man in front of the botanist hits full force once more, now that she isn't trying to ignore it, and the botanist takes a step back. Unsure and frightened. Still very injured, but able to stand on one leg. If he wanted, he could kill her.

Unmoving, the injured Wraith just stares back at Claudette. Like he's trying to pick her apart. Like he wants to ask why she even bothered. Anxiously, she keeps back, ready to bolt if she needs to.

He doesn't take a single step to go after her, for a long while. The forest's silence is almost deafening. To Claudette, it had always been a solace, the quiet. But as of late, the silence was unnerving. Nothing like a forest should be. Almost devoid of life.

Taking his eyes off of her for a single moment and staring at the ground, the Wraith takes a single step. And then another, wincing, and it's obvious that if he keeps trying to leave, to go back to where he came from, he's going to collapse before he makes it very far. And that's exactly what happens.

Claudette sprints forward when the Wraith inevitably falls back onto his knees with a painful ragged breath, to try and help, but freezes again when she realizes what she's doing. It takes longer than a few minutes to get over being stabbed in the back more times than you can count. Her own blood was caked into her clothing, no doubt some of it spilled by him.

But he didn't have his sickle. He didn't want to hurt her. He would have already, if he did.

Maybe he's waiting for the right moment to strike. He's stealthy. You're too trusting.

Claudette pushes down the thoughts that so desperately want to make themselves heard. He's hurt. He wants help. He doesn't want to hurt you.

It's difficult to argue with her instincts, but she manages well enough to gulp and let out a few more reluctant words.

"You can't walk around on it yet. You just got out of it. Look, it's still bleeding." 

In surprise, he does look down, and something like a grimace covers his face.

"Can I bandahe it? I have gauze." She looks at him anxiously. Wanting to help, to heal more than to run or let herself lose a grip now when she's done so much. 

Another hesitant nod. She nervously smiles, walking closer again. The Wraith isn't nearly as on edge as the first time he noticed her. He moves almost like he's being careful not to make any sudden actions, to avoid spooking her off. It would have been endearing, maybe, in another life. In another place. If she had known him. If she hadn't been left to bleed out on the ground, impaled by that damned scythe dripping her blood on the grass before. 

It was a nice thought. Maybe they could have been friends. 

She shakes her thoughts from her head and reaches into her shirt pocket, grabbing a roll of gauze out of it. There were better times to ponder than this.

"Okay. This is going to sting, but I'll be as gentle as I can." When he doesn't respond, just looking back at Claudette, she quickly finds the end of the roll of gauze, rolling it out. "It's going to stick to the wound, but I don't have anything that can fix that right now," she says sympathetically. "Sorry." 

She holds the end of the gauze to the Wraith's leg and wraps the roll around the bear trap wound. She doesn't notice him watching curiously, but she does hear the occasional sucked in breath when she's just a little bit too rough. Overall, though, Claudette was a good field medic when it came down to it. She's had a long, long time to practice. 

Gently but firmly, she finishes the wrapping. She uses her teeth to rip the last of the gauze from the rest of the roll, and admires her work for a moment, heart still beating fast.

"You need to be really careful when you walk for a while. It's going to be tough, but if you use that leg, it's only going to get worse," the botanist informs. The Wraith seems to take that in, and looks down at the wrap, considering. That's all Claudette can really ask for. She steps back, her work done, and the near seven-foot-tall monster of a man looks her in the eye again. The gaze doesn't make her quite as uneasy as it did just a little while ago. 

"Oh! Wait, one second, I know what can help." Desperate to break the quiet, thinking of what she can do, she looks over the ground again, and after a while of searching, she decides that if she can't find what she's looking for on the ground, then looking up is the next best option.

The Wraith looks on in evident confusion as Claudette looks up at one of the nearby trees and.. begins to climb it? It was a strange day for both of them. She's able to keep her grip on the rough bark, like she's done many times before.

Carefully, claudette finds a branch that she thinks will work just fine, and while standing on one that will hold her weight, she uses another foot to step on the thinner branch. After a few stomps, the branch starts to split, and Claudette twists it around before it finally snaps off of the tree. 

A loud thud echoes through the trees as the stick falls to the ground. The Wraith almost looks startled by it, claudette can't help but think with an awkward chuckle, and she climbs back down the tree. Carefully picking branches to put her weight onto, and eventually hopping down from one of the lowest ones. 

"Almost done," she says as she looks at the stick. After the stray tiny branches are cut off and the edge of it is split off, the branch is tall and straight enough to be used as a walking stick. A makeshift one, for sure, but it would work well enough for a few weeks, or until a replacement could be found.

"There we go! It's a walking stick. You can put some of your weight on it and use it to help you get around with the injured leg."

They both look at the trimmed branch. It wasn't that thick, enough for a little weight to be put on it, but it was *tall.* Definitely made with the Wraith in mind. The stick was nearly as tall as Claudette herself. He took it from her, gently and slowly, and looked at it. Evidently surprised that he would be given such a gift, even if it was quickly and crudely made.

It was hard to read the Wraith's expressions at the best of times. The muddy bark mask that covered his features wasnt ever absent. It wasn't hard to see how touched he was, though, by her help. Proudly, she took a few steps back, taking in the way he looked at the wrap on his leg and the branch one more time. 

They can't live in this moment forever, though. Claudette herself knows she has to be back at the camp soon. She's been gone for longer than usual already. The others would be worried, she thinks, in an almost remorseful way. 

She hasn't felt this way in a long time. This accomplished, or proud, or hopeful. God, mot this hopeful in so long. Not since she had grouped up with Jake and Dwight and Meg. 

"I have to go back to the camp now," Claudette says, half to herself and half to the Wraith. He looks back at her when she looks up at him and nods, almost understandably, she thinks.

"I hope that your injury gets better soon. Bear trap wounds are always terrible. If it gets worse, then come find me, okay?" Too late she notices that the offer isn't necessarily a good one. She did usually dwell at the campfire as of recently. If any of the survivors heard a bell so close, then everything would get chaotic quick.

Maybe she would visit her garden a little bit more. It was a fair ways out of the clearing, anyway. 

When there's no response from the man, Claudette turns around to walk back the way she came. She didn't have any reason to stay anymore. The Wraith didn't seem very talkative, either. She didn't blame him. She wasn't on most days. 

Before she can take many steps forward, trying to leave the clearing, the botanist hears the signature ringing of the wailing bell. With a shudder, she feels the hair on her neck stand on end. As always, the Bell's ringing is followed by the sound of a breeze whipping through the forest. She turns instinctively to look for the source of the sound.

She sees him. At least a little bit. The air shimmers for a moment as he moves, and quickly goes still as soon as it is visible. She barely can see the way the air is distorted when he tilts his head, likely thinking, before he takes a step away. It doesn't take long for him to be unnoticeable entirely as he vanishes into the air.

Claudette swears she can hear a hesitant, raspy 'thank you' echo through the trees. Barely a whisper, but still there nonetheless. The thought is enough to make her smile for just a moment.

Just like that, the Wraith is gone. Like he'd never even been there in the first place. The only telltale sign of him was the bear trap, still slick with his blood.

Claudette turns back around slowly, taking the same careful steps back to the campfire as she did coming in. Thinking, about a lot of things. What had just happened. How she felt.

Maybe there's a chance for a little bit more happiness here. A reason to hope a little more. To live through the bad with more conviction.

Maybe the bad isn't in everything you think it is, she says to herself. The good has to balance it out. You just has to look a little closer. Yeah. Just a little bit closer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip has not seen kindness in a long time. By some unlucky slip of fate, he finds it in the one place he never expects it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter specifically is a gift to Ziracona, because you've indirectly given me so many tips on how to make my writing look good to me, and that's pretty damn valuable. Also you stirred my love for these two a LOT. I liked them before I read ILM, but after it was increased like tenfold. I love these characters. I WILL fistfight the entity in an arby's parking lot for Philip and Susie and like. ALL of the survivors. Your comment also motivated me to write more of this, so thank you <3  
> I hope you all think this is an alright chapter!  
> Also I can't name chapters lol oops. maybe i'll go back and name em soon

He was back. As much as he hated it, it was his home. Nowhere else to go. Autohaven. An old derelict gas station, abandoned and run down. The version of it here was always older looking than it ever was when he had known it. Always slightly warped, a rushed replica of a place he had known once, in a different life. The one he calls home outside of the trials has always been more detailed than the ones he’s hunted in, but not by enough to matter.

Slowly, he had made the old gas station his home. Not one he can be truly comfortable in, but one where he can live between the trials. The truck in the garage is the closest thing to a bed he has, or needs. He’s laid a couple of the tarps from around the piles of car parts in the truck bed. Not much, but enough. He had never needed much. It’s more comfortable than the cold ground, which is all he really cares about. Sleeping isn’t a necessity here anyways.

Living in a graveyard of his own creation has never been easy, but Philip manages. Tunes out the voice in his head that reminds him of what he did here. The atrocities he’s committed. He bitterly tosses his scythe under the car with little care and gently places the wailing bell on the truck’s roof. Sits down in the truck bed to give his legs a little bit of rest.

It was its own torture, to be stuck in the place he’d killed likely hundreds of people. There was no keeping track. Not when every trunk held a helpless victim. You can't really comprehend it, even. No one can. The crushing guilt is too much to bear for Philip on the best days, so he pushes it out of his mind. As much as he can, anyways. He can't change it now. Not here.

It takes a lot of energy to keep your mind from coming back around to that sort of thing. Even if it wasn’t your own choice, the guilt that eats you alive doesn’t care.

So instead of thinking about the blood leaking from the trunks, he thinks about her. The one who had found him, injured, and decided she didn't want revenge. Didn’t want to pelt rocks at him, or foul words, or to laugh and mock him.

She only wanted to help. He'd noticed that she was always good at that. Helping others. It was admirable, really. He had pulled her away from injured friends many times, while she wrapped their wounds. Ran in front of them when he had raised his sickle to strike, even when it meant she herself would get hurt, or killed.

Before he had known the looming threat of punishment, he had simply watched. Watched them smile as they worked together on one of the churning machines that brought light and hope to them amidst the bloodshed. He had to watch as the wailing of his cherished bell made their faces fall, separating them from each other, fleeing. It was such a terrible thing to associate with the ringing of a bell.

He had always been one to listen to the rules, to scrape by. All he wanted was to live, to survive, to maybe enjoy a drink on occasion. He never imagined that scraping by would be so painful. It had been, before, but he had never quite felt this guilty. He never wanted to kill. Never. Even when he had burned the men that had stolen his home, his family. Even when he was first told of his role, when he’d freed that man from the trunk of a car. When he was told what his job really was.

He had killed her so many times, but for some reason that Philip can’t comprehend, she was kind to him regardless. She had helped him out of a bear trap, even when he’d hissed at her and tried to scare her off. And then she had bandaged his leg, and climbed a tree for him, to find a stick he could put his weight on. She had even ruined her own shirt to help him. Torn fabric strips off of it to get a better grip on the metal jaws slick with his blood. Philip wishes he could afford the same level of kindness in a trial to them. It was always cutting it close, even when the only mercy he could give was small. He would wait for an extra second if a generator was close to lighting up, or walk by a locker he knew held an injured survivor. Often, the botanist girl would be collecting plants for the first little bit of the trial. He remembers a few times when he’s been able to let her finish collecting what she wanted to, and let her have a head start, to give her a chance at keeping what she had foraged.

She had told him to find her if it got worse. It definitely isn't better, he thinks, wincing, observing the way his blood has dyed the gauze around his injury a dark red. It wasn’t bleeding, but when it had been, it was bad. Throbbing pain had been easy to ignore, at first. Philip had been through much worse. It was hard to ignore, though, every step sending waves of pain up his leg. Maybe he should look for her. Claudette? That was her name. He'd heard the harsh whispers from teammates when she was paying more attention to a patch of flowers than to the totem she was trying to deconstruct. He would look for Claudette. The last first-aid kit he’d stolen during a trial had long since been used up. He feels silly now, looking at the somewhat fresh bandages wrapped around his thin frame. If only he had kept the old ones for a little longer, maybe he wouldn’t have to go wandering aimlessly through the fog. Oh well. Not much to be done about it now. 

After a moment of consideration, the man grabs a flashlight from one of the shelves. He didn't know why he held onto anything from the trials. He never used them, and all they did was cause him pain. It would likely be terrifying for someone like him to appear from right behind you. Maybe a peace offering of sorts would ease any tension. Philip thinks it isn’t the worst idea, so he tucks it under his cloak, grabs his bell and walking stick, and limps away from the gas station and through the looming birch trees.

Philip has always found comfort in the forest. It is quiet between the trees, only the occasional crow ever breaking the silence. He’s wandered through here too many times to count. On occasion, the fog would shift, moving pieces of itself around almost at random. For the most part, it was just the killer’s domains that shifted, and the trees. Your neighbors were never definite, and always changed, which was nerve wracking. He thinks he won’t ever forget the day he narrowly escaped a hatchet that was meant to find its way into his back, a long time ago, while he was wandering a rainy thick forest neighboring his own.  
Thankfully, the real forest remained mostly the same, as well as the placement of the survivor’s fire. Philip was never quite sure why the forest that separated the two groups overlapped, but he has a fair guess. To keep the survivors scared, maybe, and inside of the safety of their clearing, or to hold the killer’s prey in front of them, so close yet so far, to encourage more desirable trial results. Either way, it helps him get away from any undesirable neighbors, so he doesn’t really mind. Most of the killers rarely leave their own domains, thankfully. The forest was fair game regardless, land free for both sides. For the survivors gutsy enough to brave the fear, and for the rare occasion that a killer wants to escape their usual environment. The influence of other killers hasn’t gone unnoticed by the survivors, and it was always dangerous in the forest. It never hurt to be cautious.

Funny, he thinks. He guesses he has not been cautious enough as of late. All being careless does is get people in trouble. Philip walks onward, gaze kept an unusual but wholly understandable amount on the ground in front of his feet, considering recent events. His pace is slower than usual, relying on the stick he'd been given to spare his leg some of the pain and injury that using it in this condition would surely bring him, but he isn’t as slow as he thought he would be.

The survivor’s fire is relatively centered, marking the middle of the forest. It doesn’t take long for Philip to see the light of it bouncing off the trees. He steps closer until he can see the people sitting beside it, not risking the visibility for a closer look. He can see fine from the edge of the clearing.

He was immensely grateful for the wailing bell at times like this, when he needs to stay concealed. Rarely does the light reflect off of him when he is in the spirit world, and even then, it’s only when he is moving. Hard to keep track of, or watch. Philip is mindful of his breathing, though, and ever aware of how loud his footsteps are. The spirit world doesn’t disguise his sounds.

The campfire is as alive as ever, even from a distance. Lively shouts and laughter echo through the trees, as if these strangers didn’t have the threat of death looming over their heads. The burly man with the accent is having a conversation with the older man holding playing cards. The redhead athlete, Meg, he thinks, is having a hard time holding in her laughter, and the man with glasses and the dress shirt beside her is smirking too. Jake, the one with the scarf, is seemingly interested in the scenario unfolding. His gaze turns towards Philip for a second, but after a moment of squinting in his general direction, he shrugs and settles again. 

As if there was nothing to worry about. Such companionship was rare here, for him.. He would be lying if he said he hadn't missed it dearly, such a light hearted chatter. It was rare to find the good things in life, but somehow, even in a place designed to cut them down, they cherish each other. Not bickering, not sneering at each other or making jokes at each other’s expense. Genuine care for each other. Philip felt a longing in his heart, but he knew what he was meant to be. He was not supposed to have friendships or people to trust in. He was meant to kill. His only purpose here is to be a weapon, an extension of the Entity. His wants don’t matter, and maybe they never would. It was a dreadful thought. He doesn’t deserve mercy, though, and he can’t expect it. Philip knows this. He’d killed too many people. He was too naive. He didn’t ask any questions, he simply worked. If only he had looked closer. It wouldn’t ever matter if he didn’t want to kill. He’d done it anyways, and he was right to suffer for it.

But these people had never killed anyone. None of them had done anything wrong, and yet they are here to suffer until they are drained of their hope, until they are simply hollow. There is no room in Philip’s heart for anything but fear and bitter resentment for the entity. 

Sitting on logs surrounding the fire, most of the survivors are fixated, attention on the redhead, who excitedly hops out of her own place and waves her arms as she tells the story of a particularly hilarious trial with the Pig. For a moment, he forgets entirely why he came to their fire this time. She has a way with storytelling, this one. Often Philip finds himself near this fire, just watching, listening to the stories these strangers will tell each other. It’s better than grieving inside of the garage all day, and often he finds it quite entertaining. Philip is very much aware that he is not welcome at this fire, but he isn’t causing any harm, and no one has ever seen him. He is careful. So he lets himself stay and listen to Meg tell her tale, enraptured by the detail and emotion embedded in Meg’s words.

The survivors, he’s noticed, have never strayed far from their clearing. Not often, at the least. The one who frequents the woods most is Jake, and the others tend to stay in the clearing. Meg will leave to go for a jog on occasion, and Claudette will also wander around, looking for plants, he assumed, albeit much more hesitantly. 

After a while of waiting near the fire, he remembers he isn’t here to listen, like he has been so many times before. A quick look around the clearing tells him all he needs to know. Claudette isn’t here right now. A second of hesitation is all he awards himself as he stretches his legs and gazes over the bordering woods. It was likely she is in the woods not far from here, and so he limps away from the fire, slowly, balancing his weight on his uninjured leg and on the walking stick as he wanders. 

Philip doesn’t notice the way Jake perks up, looking in his direction, or the way the clearing’s hearty socializing abruptly lowers to hushed whispering as he leaves.

His glowing white eyes aid him in seeing in the dark better than anyone else’s, and his hearing was sharp. A constant reminder of what he is forced to be, of his lost humanity. At least his heightened senses come in handy. Listening sharply for the shuffling of feet other than his own, Philip walks on.

The trees are considerably thinner near the clearing, and it doesn’t take long at all for him to stumble upon a place he hasn’t seen before. A second clearing, smaller than the one housing the campfire, but still generously spacious. The crunch of dry leaves under someone's feet and the sound of soft humming fills Philip's ears. He recognizes the tune as the one the axe-wielding woman had been humming, too, when he had trespassed in her forest. That's Claudette’s voice, he's sure of it, so he treads carefully in the direction the sounds are coming from. 

The soothing sound guides Philip closer to the treeline, where he can actually look into the clearing. There’s a large rectangle full of loose dirt, lined by a few logs and some rusty scrap metal. A shoddy fence tied together with some sort of plant fiber wraps around two sides of the box. Several healthy looking plants are housed in the dirt, most of which he can't name. Some he recognizes by appearance. He's passed them by before, wandering through the fog. Philip has never had a reason to take a closer look at any of them. It’s clear that he’s stumbled upon a little garden, evidently made with care. As scrappy as it looks, it seems to hold itself together remarkably well.

Philip stands at the edge of the clearing. She’s in the middle of the garden, working,, and he watches the girl dig a decent sized hole in the vacant soil plant some beautiful golden flowers in the spot she had cleared. She has a smile on her face as she continues to hum. It’s clear that this little garden is her pride and joy here. The plants are very healthy and it’s evident that Claudette takes good care of this place. 

He hates to intrude on a moment of such peace, he thinks with remorse. She’s so calm, peaceful. Such an uncommon occurrence in this hell. But his leg aches, and although the wound is no longer bleeding, he doesn’t have any gauze to replace the blood-soaked wrapping with. Now that he thinks about it, Philip doesn’t think he’s ever seen her without a roll of gauze before, even now.

This clearing is not far at all from the campfire, and he had thought that she would be closer to it, so he tied one of his ropes around the bell’s clapper back at the gas station. It muffles the sound of the bell immensely, enough that the bell can hardly be heard by himself when he rings it. Better safe than sorry. If any other survivors hear him so close, there’s no doubt in his mind that they would not be pleased, to say the least.

Carefully pulling the wailing bell from under his cloak, Philip rings it twice with the walking stick. He closes his eyes as he lets the warm burning cover him and fade as soon as it comes. Leaving the spirit world was a strange sensation. Like being bathed in fire, if he is ripped out of it, but if it’s of his own accord, it feels warm and prickly.

It’s evident that Claudette hears and feels the breeze, too. It isn't loud by any means, but somehow the sound is still present even from long distances. It’s always been that way. 

She stops humming as soon as the sound fills the air. Somehow, her smile hardly fades as she turns around to face him, despite the fact that he was a killer. The botanist only looks a small bit nervous.

"Oh, hey! You're back. How's the leg doing?" He shrugs in response and looks down at the wrap. Her gaze follows his own and she doesn't seem particularly concerned by the bloody gauze, which was likely a good sign. "Oh, well, that's what happens when you get a bad injury. As long as you haven't been walking on it, it should be fine. You have been using the stick, right?" 

He holds it out with a little nod. That seems to relieve the botanist, who just lets out a sigh. "Good. For some reason Meg insists on running after she gets her leg hurt and it baffles me." She chuckles. “She’s too dedicated for her own good.”

Philip tilts his head questioningly. That has to cost a lot of time in trials, walking around with a gaping leg wound, especially for her. She has always been the fast one.

“Yeah. She's awesome, and we all love her, but she likes to make trouble." He knows all about that. Meg had once chased him around the entirety of Lery's while taunting him, yelling at him to swing a little faster while making stupid faces. It was very funny, and he remembers trying to keep a straight face. It was only a little bit irritating. Philip makes an understanding face that conveys that he knows exactly who she's talking about.

After a moment of silence, Claudette speaks up. "Want me to re-wrap the trap wound? That's probably what you're here for, I'm guessing." He nods, and Claudette quickly pulls her roll of gauze from her pocket and unravels some of it. "Can you take the old wrap off for me?"

Philip complies silently, slowly letting himself rest on the forest floor. Standing isn’t easy, and balancing on one leg was tiring. Having a seven-foot-tall man loom over you can’t be reassuring either, he guesses. Stretching out his injured leg with a wince, the man slowly unwrapped the red strips. Letting out a hiss when he gets to the end, peeling it off of the wound with a wince. He looks back up at her expectantly.

"Thank you! Here, this will be much better." The girl sits down on the ground herself, carefully yet firmly wrapping a new layer of gauze around the injury. Being very careful, like she had been before. Claudette was good at this. Practice really does add up when you have enough of it under your belt.. She’s been the one who heals the most in trials, especially in the beginning. 

It doesn't take long for her to finish wrapping the wound for Philip again. "Perfect! You need to keep off of it still, for a few more weeks, or it'll only get worse. But you've been doing a good job of that already." The warm smile from the botanist is contagious, and the man can’t help but return the gesture, as hidden as his own smile was. 

As slowly as he had set himself on the ground, Philip uses the stick and his healthy leg to lift himself back up. Claudette stands herself, looking up at him. Philip has always been very conscious of his height. Being seven feet tall has always put others on edge, and it’s no exception here. She barely reaches his chest, and she has to look up at him to meet his gaze. 

“I hope it gets better soon. It’s already healing way faster than it should normally, which is a good thing- Oh,” Her eyes widen, and for a moment she’s digging through her pockets again. “Here! I didn’t think you would have your own, so I made sure to grab a spare roll.” Claudette holds out the roll of gauze and Philip reaches out to take it in his hand. Observing it for a moment, like he’s been given a diamond instead of gauze. He wonders what he’s done to deserve such kindness, especially from someone he’s left to bleed out on the cold ground. Chuckling at the look on Philip’s face, the botanist looks back to the garden for a moment, before Philip taps her shoulder. She jumps at the touch, but looks back over questioningly.

Removing the flashlight from his cloak, he holds it out to her. 

“What? Do you want me to have this?” Philip nods, and reaches out a little further. Claudette grips the handle, looking over the flashlight with keen interest. “Where’d you even get this? This is one of the best flashlights you can find! It even has one of the good lightbulbs! This is actually really valuable. Huh." Claudette keeps admiring it for a minute longer. "Thank you! Nea's going to be so jealous. Don’t these hurt you, though? She looks genuinely concerned. Philip shrugs. “I mean, if it’s okay with you, then i’ll keep it.” Gently, she places the flashlight down under the garden fence.

Quiet fills the clearing as Philip lets out a sigh. The silence is friendly, somehow, and he lets himself bask in the soft feeling for a while. It has been forever since he has had an opportunity to be anything but a threatening presence. It was something he’s sorely missed.  
"I'm sorry, I never even asked for your name. I’m sure your name isn’t actually the Wraith. I'm Claudette, and you are?"

He glances over, freezing up. It takes a moment for him to decide if he wants to say. He opens his mouth, and closes it again, and eventually just shakes his head. He doesn't want to say. If anyone knew, then it would make trials even more difficult. Claudette opens her mouth to say something, but before she can speak he interrupts her. Playing charades has never been an efficient way to communicate. Gathering his thoughts and picking his words carefully, he takes some time to remember how to speak this language right, without looking stupid.

"Promise you will not tell them?" Philip hasn't had anyone to talk to for years.His voice is raspy and strained, and he winces at the sound of it. The botanist seems surprised that he's said anything at all, but after a second she just smiles.

"Of course not! They'll have to figure it out on their own. I bet it would be way harder if someone called you during a trial." She seems very sympathetic. Almost like the trials aren’t the place where her friends and she herself has been killed endlessly. It's almost funny.

Philip closes his glowing eyes and sighs, taking in a breath. He looks the girl in the eyes for as long as he can manage.

"My name is Philip."

Her eyes light up like stars and somehow her nervous smile grows even brighter. "It's nice to meet you, Philip! Thank you for the flashlight.” Her smile is so genuine. It almost hurts to look at. How can someone so kind hearted and so good be forced to endure the realm’s horror? It’s unfair. She shouldn’t be here, waiting to be slaughtered like an animal at the hands of a monster. He wonders how she keeps holding onto hope in this hell. It’s a respectable quality to have.

Claudette slowly returns to her work after taking a final look at the wrap on Philip’s leg and giving it a hum of approval. She's planting some that have been moved from somewhere else in the realm. The flowers are a deep pink. Such a beautiful thing had no right to be here.

After a moment of watching her softly place roots in the soil, Philip wonders how many plants she would house if she had the space she needed. The pink flowers she plants are very beautiful. With a proper greenhouse he’s sure she would be able to keep a lovely collection.

Claudette seems content with the quiet, even if she's being watched while she works. Philip is fine with it too. Not all of the time you spend has to be filled with words. Watching her eagerly, he is mindful of his leg, careful not to move it. He sits back down, looking over the garden before letting his gaze settle on the plant she was working with at the moment. The blossoms on the plant are a dazzling pink and red, perhaps more vibrant than anything else in the garden. Philip points at it and Claudette looks at him, confused.

"What is it's name?" He gestures to the red flowers again.

Claudette's face instantly brightens at the realization of what Philip is Asking. "Oh! Those are Dianthus Barbatus, but most people just call them Sweet William. We burn them sometimes for a little bit of help during a trial. They're really pretty, aren't they?" 

Philip nods affirmatively, admiring the flowers that Claudette finishes planting. He reaches out to touch one of the petals, feeling the soft yet strange texture of the thing. Not quite like any flowers he had ever felt outside of the realm. It’s true that the entity really doesn’t care for how real the flora in the realm feels, or anything especially detailed, really. Just that it looks accurate enough to pass as what it’s meant to be, at a glance.

"The petals are meant to have a little bit of white in the center, but I guess the entity just thought they were good enough and left them like that. Which is really stupid! So many of the plants here are just wrong, and it's driving me crazy!" She threw her hands up in the air at that, taking a second before covering the newly placed roots in some of the dirt she'd excavated. 

Philip gives her a sympathetic look as he looks over the other plants before quickly watching the botanist work again. She hums softly once more as she rearranges dirt and roots to be snug in the little space they have. Her passion was simply tossed to the side like an extra detail here. No wonder it gets her so agitated whenever she thinks about it. She really cares about these plants. 

Philip settles in the clearing for what is about an hour, resting as Claudette tends to her garden with care. Inevitably, such a calm and peaceful moment must soon end. Nothing good lasts forever. Philip turns as he hears the harsh whispers from the thickening fog. The Entity wants him back in his domain, and he has no choice but to comply. It was likely that it was time for one of the other killers to start a trial. It didn’t like any of the other killers being out and about during that time.

Carefully, and with little grace, he manages to get himself to stand, putting his weight on the walking stick and his healthy leg as he stretches himself out. 

"Aw, do you have to go?" She sounds disappointed, slightly, and he feels bad for it. He nods with a sigh. He wants to stay longer. This garden feels like a safe haven from the rest of the fog to him. "Well, it was nice having you here, Philip. I hope the leg gets better soon! You're always welcome to visit the garden.”

Philip smiles at the gesture, and pauses for a moment. He's thinking about a lot of things, but it takes only a moment for what he wants to say to leave his lips.

"Thank you. For your kindness." His voice is rough from disuse and from the entity's meddling, but his words are still discernible enough, evidently, by Claudette’s reaction. She looks taken aback for a moment, but her warm grin doesn’t fade.

"You too. I'm glad that I could help." She smiles a lot when she's happy, Philip notices. Reminds him of a sister, if he had one. He likes to think that they look similar. Or would have, if he was the same as he had been before it all.

It hurts to turn away from her. Philip can't help but look back. There she is, looking his way herself, and she gives him a shy wave as he turns. He can't help but return such a gesture before he trudges back through the fog. Wondering why she was so willing to show kindness to a killer. How could it be pleasant to sit and bear the urge to flee as a monster sits in your safe place, watching you? He’s sure he wouldn’t be able to bear it himself.

A rare kindness like this is not something he will take for granted, though. Philip will treasure the little hope that had been given to him, the small light that was shining again. And he won't let anyone take it away from him. This he promises himself.

Somehow, even amidst all of the bloodshed and guilt, Philip has found himself a friend. A very unlikely one for certain, but that doesn’t matter in the slightest to him. He has found someone who appreciates him, even if he’s a monster, and he won’t let himself give up. Not anymore. Not if she’s out there, believing in him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning on adding more to this! Im unsure of how I'll go about it, but just little bits and pieces of these two interacting and being family wouldn't be bad. I just love them so much. I kind of wanna keep it coherent too? And like in order? I guess I'll see how that goes :0
> 
> I hope you liked this little piece of self indulgent writing, because i'm a little bit proud of it and because I don't see nearly enough of these two in fics interacting and I had to make more for me and the other people who like these guys. Be the content you want to see, lol.
> 
> I hope the read was worth the time you spent on it, and that you have a good day <3


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